Whether He Knows or Not
by Bluest-of-Jayys
Summary: A series of fluffy ficlets about Denmark and Norway comforting each other. 1 - Picking noses
1. Chapter 1: Picking Noses

**Picking Noses**

**Bluest-of-Jayys**

Lukas arrived home from work to find Mathias spread across the couch, limp and lazy, and immediately knew something was amiss. It was unsettling to see Mathias so drained and unlike his usual, irritating, inhumanly energetic self.

"Have you started dinner?" he asked warily.

Mathias's only reply was a drawn-out sigh, a confirmation that something was indeed wrong. Lukas crossed the living room floor in two quick strides. Before Mathias could get up to cook some feeble attempt at a dinner, Lukas settled chilly hands around his boyfriend's cheeks and buried his nose in the eternal rat's nest of Mathias's hair. "Never mind," he said softly.

Mathias pulled Lukas's hands away from his face. "You're cold!" he cried, sitting up.

"Of course, I just got home," Lukas answered with a pout, taking up the seat next to Mathias. He pat his thighs. "Lie down."

A brief smile crossed Mathias's lips as he lay his head in Lukas's lap. This time, he let Lukas's cold hands stroke his face, his hair, and his lips as they slowly warmed up.

"Something happened to you at work today," Lukas stated astutely.

"You know me too well," sighed Mathias, pressing kisses to his boyfriend's fingertips.

"Talk to me. I want to help."

Mathias closed his eyes. "It's just a work matter," he said, "not really anything big, just… ugh. That jerk Berwald got the raise I was vying for—hey, don't put your fingers in there!"

Lukas pulled his pinky out of Mathias's nostril and wiped it on his trousers as if it were nothing. "There's always next time," he said matter-of-factly, "you're smart and a hard worker, even though you have a tendency to lick things to claim them as yours."

"Says the guy stickin' his pinkies in my nose," Mathias shot back, a grin spreading across his face. Lukas returned it with a small smile of his own and he extended his arms, inviting Mathias to hold him. Mathias buried his face in the crook of Lukas's neck, arms around the smaller man's waist.

"God, Luke, I dunno what I'd do if I didn't have you to do weird shit to my nose," Mathias's laugh was watery and he clutched at Lukas's shirt.

"Feeling a little better, at least?" asked Lukas, scratching gently at his boyfriend's scalp.

Mathias practically melted in his arms. "Loads better," he purred, "but I still don't wanna cook."

"I'll call for pizza."

"Jesus H. Christ, Luke. If you don't stop being so perfect, I'm gonna have to marry you," warned Mathias.

"Guess I'll have to keep being perfect, then," Lukas answered, releasing Mathias from his grasp and reaching for his cell phone.

"Huh!?"

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><p><strong>AN: I have a headcanon that Norway is at least as weird as Denmark, just in a slightly different way.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2: One Man Show

**One-Man Show**

**Bluest-of-Jayys**

Denmark sure as hell didn't like it when Norway got into one of his funks. They made him quieter and mopier than usual. Definitely not fun. Plus, it meant that his Norge was hurting somewhere inside, and he was pretty sure that a sad Norge, like, went against the laws of nature or something.

So when he found Norway sitting alone in their shared study listening to Death Cab for Cutie on the highest volume setting, he was naturally a little worried.

"Everythin' all right, Norge?" he asked, placing a gentle hand on his lover's shoulder. Norway sent him a brief glance before shaking his head. "Thought so. Well…" his voice trailed off as he realized he had nothing to say, so with a quick "be right back!" he scampered out of the room. Between loud footsteps, he could hear Norway sigh, and guilt tugged at his chest.

_ It's for the best,_ he reasoned, _I just need to get something that'll make him feel awesome 'cause I'm shit with words._

He was fully aware of Norway's fondness for comfort foods. He'd once teased Norway about it when they were teenagers ("Seriously, Norge, you and your comfort foods. You're like, a pregnant woman or something!"); he remembered because his cheek sported a print the same size and shape of Norge's hand for a good week.

Denmark also happened to be the chief of comfort food chefs. Time was short, though—his Norge was definitely sifting through emo music on Youtube, and there was a limit to how much Linkin Park Denmark could stomach.

He found vanilla ice cream and an almost-empty jar of Nutella. Good enough. He scooped the ice cream into the jar and topped it off with a handful of animal crackers. Even better. He raced his comfort food concoction back to the study, bursting into the room and nearly startling Norway out of his chair.

"NORGE! I MADE YOU A THING!" Denmark cried, thrusting the Nutella jar into Norway's hands. "I haven't seen you for a while around the house so you must be pretty hungry, right? Eat up!"

"You dork," Norway said, accepting the jar. Despite his frigid words, a smile played on his lips. Denmark beamed.

"I have a joke, too," he said, leaning against Norway's desk. "What's the difference between a BMW and a porcupine?"

"I don't know, what?" answered Norway, mouth full of delicious Nutella ice cream.

"With a porcupine, the pricks are on the outside!" Denmark exclaimed. His spirits soared when Norway doubled over in silent laughter, trying not to spit out his ice cream while mumbling _oh my God_, _you did not just_. Denmark pat him on the back before turning Norway's emo music to a more palatable volume. "So, Norge, what's been eatin' at ya?"

Norway rose, his lips twitching with the faint remnants of laugher. "It's nothing of extreme importance," he said, "I've been feeling overworked recently. My boss dumped a pile of paperwork on my desk out of the blue this afternoon, and it was such a pain to finish."

"But Norge, that's pretty important!" argued Denmark, "Even nations like us have our limits. We're still people, too!"

"You do have a point," replied Norway, licking his spoon thoughtfully, "I'll tell my boss about it tomorrow at work."

"'Attaboy, Norge!" Denmark cheered, ruffling Norway's hair, "but for now, just rest. I'll make dinner. I'm coming straight back here if I start hearing Linkin Park, though, okay?"

This time, Norway outright laughed. "You don't need to worry about that," he said. Denmark smiled and turned to leave. "Wait, Den."

"Yes?"

Norway held up the Nutella jar. "Thanks for this. And for, uh, caring about me."

Denmark rushed back over, enveloping Norway in a tight hug and peppering smacky kisses across his brow. "Aww, Norge," he said between kisses, "you're my lovebug, how could I not?"

Norway lifted his chin, sending one of Denmark's kisses connecting with his lips. "I love you too, weirdo," he sniffed, face reddening, "now get out of here before I really embarrass myself."

"Right," cheered Denmark, skipping towards the doorway. He licked his lips, sticky from Norway's kiss.

Turns out ice cream and Nutella really did go together.

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><p><strong>AN: They're so effin' weeeeird. I like it. <strong>


End file.
